


Fix you

by shipintheisland



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: #seb deserves better 2k21, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressive Thoughts, Gen, long reflexions about the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipintheisland/pseuds/shipintheisland
Summary: Sign, retire, sign, retire, sign, retire…The German driver hadn’t slept well since then, the two words fighting in his mind, with no winner ready to emerge.Sebastian's time at Ferrari is getting on his mental stability, missed opportunities on track the blatant favouritism towards his teammate are slowly getting the best off him. But in the middle of the 2020 season, he still has to make a choice. Sign the unexpected contract extend and take two more years to prove himself, retire and leave his pain behind, sign, retire, sign, retire...
Relationships: Charles Leclerc & Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen & Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	1. Sleepless night

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I had the song Fix You by Coldplay stuck in my head for weeks, and I started imagining little scenes on the lyrics and this came out. Don't take it wrong, I love Seb, I love Charles, and without being their biggest fan I'm not THAT petty over Ferrari, but this is a fanfic so eh. I know where this is going, but it's gonna be a mess, sorry for that!
> 
> On a side note, I want to dedicate this work to an amazing writer around that inspires me a lot. kakkakerssi, we don't know each other outside of some comments on your fics, I don't know if you're gonna like this or even read this, but your texts are a real inspiration for me and reading your works made me want to write something knew (not so light hearted, something I'm not used to do). I look forwards to read more of your stories :)

_When you try your best but you don't succeed  
When you get what you want but not what you need  
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse_

_Why am I still doing this?_

Sebastian was laying on his mattress, hands linked on his belly, eyes squeezing shut, trying desperately to chase the sleep he needed. It was late, really late, and Hanna was snoring softly by his side, her hair falling everywhere on the cushion around her head. He wanted to follow her in the land of dreams, needed to take the necessary rest before his departure for Spain, but the Sandman clearly didn’t want to visit him for now. He sighed heavily, opening his eyes in his defeat.

His gaze wandered around the dark bedroom, occasionally stopping on his still opened suitcase, the few toys his children left after their evening games, one of his old Championship trophy he took out in his thoughts a few hours earlier, running his fingers on the metal while remembering the happiness and pride he had felt that day. It seemed so fay away now, like good old times, when winning seemed so easy to do, support was so easy to gain and his only concern was how to go back home without a horde of fans following him in the airport.

Sebastian sighed tiredly, looking up to the ceiling to stop eyeing nostalgically this remainder of his talent, the last real proof of his time in Motorsport, a last trace of his records… Why was it so hard nowadays? Week after week, race after race, whatever he was giving into it seemed to never be sufficient anymore as the number of times he stepped on a podium dangerously decreased to a straight zero this season. He was becoming way too intimate with the fourth place, if not lower when Max and Charles were not getting at each other’s cars, and the simple thought of that made his guts twist in anxiety. He was supposed to be used to the pressure, supposed to handle it perfectly and embrace it to get to his goals, supposed to be able to turn it into determination and _win_. Why couldn’t he do it now? The legendary Italian team could not and would not wait for him to get his acts together, he knew he didn’t have a choice but to push more and follow the line.

He exhaled sharply. Last year, he was showing his younger teammate how it worked in the field, and now he was the one who had to follow Charles’ lead. Sebastian tried not to let that thought reach him, but his hold on the duvet covering him tightened.

His eyes continued to scan the bedroom despite the darkness, and he finally spotted a sheet of paper on the desk further. Sebastian stayed still, unconsciously holding his breath as he recognized the contract without even seeing it, the bright red logo seeming to shine in temptation in the night.

 _“We want to try for one more year despite everything.”_ Mattia had told him a few days ago, when the inevitable discussion about his future came on the table. _“One last chance to prove you’re still in the game.”_ The tall man had added with an optimistic smile that Sebastian had forced himself to return, clearly not convinced by his principal’s words. _If he was still in the game._ Maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was getting old and should retire like his Finnish counterpart had suggested him. Go back to Switzerland, stay with his children all day, sleep, forget about the rest…

_Sign, retire, sign, retire, sign, retire…_

The German driver hadn’t slept well since then, the two words fighting in his mind, with no winner ready to emerge.

Retiring surely was appealing, a notion that had convinced the most experienced driver of the grid. Joining Kimi in a retreat in the Swiss mountains, spending his time between his family, his friends, his children, putting aside all the stress of the racing life, without even having to worry about possible financial problems, his salary could suffice him for the next 50 years with no problem. But was he ready to close the door on the dream life after such a succession of unsuccessful seasons? He didn’t want to leave with the defeating feeling that was clawing on him, he had to change it back or at least appease his mind. _Could he?_

On the other side, signing the damned paper would offer him another chance at aiming for the top, a job he (was supposed to) love for a couple more years, a teammate he still affectionated despite their situation, a significant salary, and the famous red race suit in his luggages with the pride that followed. Everything he had always worked hard for in his life, in his hands a little longer, everything he had always wanted… And the downsides. Critical medias, unwanted rivalries, hurtful comments, stress, pressure, and the oh so terrible risk of failing for good and lose his goddamned mind. _Was it worth it?_

His hands unconsciously clutched on the sheets covering him as he took a short breath, still eyeing the two-year contract on the desk like it would disappear if he looked away for a second. How could a simple piece of paper like that could keep him awake for hours, days after days, like a shadow towering over him from its place in the other side of the bedroom?

Sebastian moved on his side, keeping his gaze on the desk until, in an exasperated exhale, he turned his eyes to the clock on the nightstand, tiredly watching the numbers displayed, and he found out it was more than 3am already. A hand slipping on his chest made him jump in surprise, and he turned around to face his now slightly awake wife looking at him with worried blue eyes.

“Still not sleeping, love?”

Sebastian bit his lower lip. Lost deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t realised moving around in the bed could steer the beautiful woman from her dreams, and now she was even worried. _Great job, Seb._

Slowly, the Ferrari driver slipped his left arm around Hanna’s small frame, encircling her with the other as she positioned herself against his chest, humming contently against his neck. His anxiety and worried thoughts evaporated nearly instantly at the sound, and he put a loving kiss on her forehead, smiling softly against her skin.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.”

Hanna slipped an arm around him and dragged her fingers up and down his back in a soothing way and Sebastian sighed again, closing his eyes and letting the movement take away his thoughts. Being exhausted and incapable of controlling his car during the race week clearly wouldn’t help him in this heated debate with himself.


	2. Taking out the frustration

_When the tears come streaming down your face  
'Cause you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?_

_After a catastrophic race, he goes back to his motorhome and slams the door, someone knocks and Seb screams at them to go away, crying without control, it ends up being Charles who just says “I’m sorry” because he won the race thanks to the strategists’ decisions and the FIA’s seemingly disregard towards him_

_“He was faster than you, Sebastian.”_

_“It’s not against you, Sebastian.”_

_“You would have done the same at his place, Sebastian.”_

_“It’s not his fault you ended up on the grass, Sebastian.”_

_“The FIA doesn’t hate you, Sebastian.”_

God, he had enough. They could tell him every excuse they could think of to try and calm his nerves, it was all bullshit. Another podium just escaped him and they really wanted him to believe it was only due to bad luck? No way.

Sebastian stomped in his room, slamming the door shut strong enough to be heard from outside the Ferrari motorhome. Was it childish? Maybe, but so were their reactions after the terribly risky overtake from Charles that forced him to cut a corner in order to avoid a crash, and then the usual quick penalties from the FIA. Right now, he didn’t care, he was furious.

The German stepped in front of the small couch against the wall, standing still despite his racing thoughts, clutching his fists impulsively.

He was having a good race, a second place profiling at the end, a good pace and the worst that could have happened to him was being overtaken by his teammate. But even that was good for him as they were far ahead of any other car and he would still be able to keep the podium. That was all he wanted, a podium. A proof that he was still there, still capable, still strong!

Frustration built up again in his chest and before he could stop himself, he kicked the sofa’s leg then faceplanted on the cushions in a groan. _“Next time will be the one”_ promised him Ferrari’s team principal, avoiding any discussion about the obvious favouritism the whole team deployed for their youngest driver, as if they wouldn’t do it again with no hesitation the next week. They didn’t care about him anymore, as long as he could still score the points they needed for the constructor’s championship. Considering the German in the course for the driver’s cup seemed to be out of the question, they had the young Monegasque to complete that task, and no former wins from Sebastian could change their mind now. It was all about Charles, and he was just supposed to not make the team to ashamed of him. _Good job for that…_

Sebastian rolled over on his back, and his eyes fell on his shaking hands. His lower lip trembled a little and he clenched his jaw, frustration slowly leaving space for the more familiar feeling of despair.

_He couldn’t do anything to get back to them, uh?_

He took a long breath to try and calm himself, only managing to stop a first sob from escaping his lips, his chest convulsing in the involuntarily movement. As another one hit him, his vision became blurry, he threw his hands on his eyes, trying to hide the tears slowly forming in his eyes. He was such a mess.

He needed to show them what he was still capable of doing on the track, that he didn’t get four _freaking_ titles by sheer luck! But then, at each of his attempts, the fireball named Charles Leclerc would blind everyone with risky moves and perfect racing, including him, and Sebastian was left behind, picking up the pieces of his gone bravery and stolen personal victory. And worst of all, he wasn’t even angry with the boy, his talent indisputable and his chances at a higher place undoubted even by Sebastian himself. To be honest, Charles was a sweetheart with him, probably the only one never dragging him down at Ferrari, always cheering him up the best he could in difficult moments and despite Ferrari’s big heads desperately trying to teach him how to deal less friendly with his German teammate. And after a year and a half “mentoring” him (as the young man kept telling everyone), he was simply spreading his wings and flying alone, exactly like Sebastian himself had done in his Red Bull years before him.

_Maybe Charles would also end up depressed and left alone with self-inflicted failures to comfort him._

A painful sob escaped him at the thought and suddenly breathing was the hardest thing to do. He tried to inhale some much needed oxygen but it barely crossed his lips, leaving him light-headed and dizzy. He tentatively sat down and brought his knees against his chest, hugging his legs and hiding his face.

He stayed still for what felt like hours, crying as silently as possible not to alert anyone around the motorhome. It was hard enough to deal with the pressure and the disappointments, he didn’t want to appear even more weak in front of the team. No need to give them any reason to regret the contract extend they gave him two weeks ago, Sebastian was still not sure what he was going to do with it. At that exact moment, tearing it in pieces and leaving the competition behind seemed so tempting. Someone else would replace him at Charles’ wingman and Ferrari’s favourite scapegoat, and he wouldn’t have to care about everyone’s opinions anymore. But again, it meant leaving on this, on the terrible feeling of failure and-

A knock on his door interrupted his trail of thoughts and Sebastian drew a sharp breath and froze in place, blocking his respiration not to make any sound. Eyes wide, he scrutinized the handle, praying that anyone on the other side would assume he was absent and leave him alone. He didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Seb? It’s Charles, I know you’re in there.”

The Monegasque’s voice was quiet, nearly a whisper and Sebastian had to pay extra attention to understand what his unwanted teammate was saying. Another knock, followed by a slightly louder “Seb?”, but the German didn’t move, only forcing himself to breathe through his nose not to faint from lack of oxygen. He waited a few more seconds, hesitating to go and open the door, let the young man talk some sense in him like he always tried to do, but he frowned. His current problem far exceeded a simple rivalry now.

“You want to be alone, I get it.” Charles said softly, understanding like only he could in this crazy team, and the calm and comprehensive tone brought a single tear out of Sebastian’s eye, rolling on his left puffy cheek. “I just want you to tell you…”

He could here the younger man sigh heavily. Maybe he was tired of that situation too. Another tear followed.

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian wanted to scream _It’s not your fault!_ but he couldn’t move, and the sound of footsteps drifting away indicated that Charles had left the corridor. The only thing the German could do was let the new tears fall and cry even more, the guilt of his teammate adding on top of the pile of all his ruminations.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until there, kudos and comments are much appreciated :)


End file.
